


Linguistic Appraisal

by treescape



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Established Relationship, Language Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 16:51:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14241666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treescape/pseuds/treescape
Summary: It’s not that Daniel has a language kink, but…well, Daniel has a language kink.





	Linguistic Appraisal

**Author's Note:**

> A trained linguist I am not.

If there’s one thing Daniel’s learned over the years, it’s that there’s nothing quite like listening to Jack talk. Daniel knows twenty-three languages. He’s studied dozens more. He’s heard thousands and thousands of speech patterns, and plans to hear thousands more before he dies.

Maybe it’s sentimental, and he’s almost certainly biased, but none of them quite compare to Jack’s.

 

**_Diction: the manner in which words are pronounced._ **

He knows it’s a little predictable for a linguist, but Daniel loves the way Jack speaks. He thinks he could spend hours just listening to the sound of Jack’s voice, or watching the shape of his lips as they move . For the most part, Daniel manages not to be distracted in the moment, especially when it’s work-related. But later, when he has the time, he’ll replay Jack’s voice in his head. He’ll linger on Jack’s enunciation and the way he emphasizes certain phonemes and syllables and words, the way he consistently elides others, the way every word and phrase weaves it’s way into something so inexplicably, indelibly _Jack_.

_“Alright, team, it’s time to get goin’. We don’t have all day.”_

Daniel can spend long minutes remembering just a few words, even when they’re words he’s heard a hundred times before. Early on, before fumbled declarations of love, it bordered on something torturous. Now, it’s just a habit, albeit an extremely enjoyable one.

When they’re alone and the world isn’t in _immediate_ danger, he likes to let himself savour it. He lets the inflections in Jack’s voice wash over him, the way Jack says “ _Pass the remote_ ,” or “ _What should we order?_ ,” or his personal favourite—just “ _Daniel_.” 

 

**_Gesticulate: to make movements with your hands or arms, to express something or to emphasize what you are saying._ **

Jack’s watching the hockey game, sprawled out on one end of the couch with a bowl of popcorn beside him. Daniel’s mostly reading a book, head propped up against the opposite armrest so that his feet can rest comfortably in Jack’s lap, but he’s also watching his husband out of the corner of his eye. Jack tends to get animated over sports games, and Daniel’s found that it’s generally safest for all concerned to keep one eye on him at all times.

It really isn’t long before Daniel proves himself right on this count. Again.

“What the _fuck was that_?” Jack demands in outrage, and the force in his voice seems to physically propel his body off the couch as he rises indignantly to his feet. Daniel is almost, _almost_ thrown off balance as his own feet are accordingly and unceremoniously dumped from Jack’s lap. Jack has his hands stretched out to the TV in a dramatic, disgusted appeal to the Sport Gods of Justice. “Daniel, did you _see that_?”

Daniel lets his book fall mostly closed around one finger and peers at the screen, trying for a moment to figure out what he’s supposed to be angry at. Finally, unsure, he makes a noncommittal noise of support and reaches out to nudge Jack’s leg with his foot. Jack grumbles, but he sits back down and Daniel returns his feet to their former position. Jack absentmindedly runs his fingers in a firm sweep over Daniel’s left arch—not lightly enough to tickle, but not hard enough to hurt. It’s just the way Daniel likes it.

For a moment all is still except for the replay on the screen, and then Jack gropes around for the popcorn bowl and irritably flicks a few pieces at the TV. They bounce off the screen and hit the floor.

Daniel shakes his head fondly and opens his book properly again. “I’m not picking those up.”

Jack throws another piece of popcorn, and this time it bounces off Daniel’s shoulder.

 

**_Plosive: a consonant sound that is made by stopping air flowing out of the mouth, and then suddenly releasing it. e.g.,_ k _,_ t _, or_ d.**

The air feels electric between them, heavy with heat and want and the sound of their breathing. Daniel presses his lips against Jack’s clavicle, letting his tongue dart out to taste salt as he presses Jack back against the mattress. His cock slides against Jack’s stomach, and Jack arches his own into the crease of Daniel’s thigh.

Jack’s breath catches and suddenly he’s pushing and rolling until Daniel is beneath him, and Daniel goes easily because if there’s one thing he loves as much as the feel of Jack beneath him, it’s the feel of Jack’s weight bearing him down onto their bed. Jack reaches between them and gets one hand around both of their cocks, sliding tightly down and then up and twisting at the heads. His forehead comes to rest for a moment against Daniel’s, and then his lips are gently gliding across Daniel’s cheek. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jack says hoarsely, and Daniel’s own breath starts to come more shortly at the way Jack’s voice catches on the plosive. Daniel’s hips are moving more than a little desperately, and his hands can’t stay still—they grip at Jack’s shoulders, move up to clench in his hair, skim over his face. Somehow his right hand works its way down between their bodies, because Jack’s gripping them together so perfectly that Daniel just has to _feel_ it. Jack instinctively levers himself up just enough to give Daniel some room to work, and Daniel lets his fingers skim over the back of Jack’s hand, dip in around his knuckles, and then move up to rub gently against the head of their cocks as they thrust up through the circle of Jack’s hand.

“Oh, yeah, like that,” Jack says a little frantically, his voice breaking again on the last word as his lips catch roughly at one corner of Daniel’s mouth before he manages a proper kiss, deep and urgent. “God, _Daniel_.”

The sound of his own name almost does Daniel in, but he determinedly holds on, trying to prolong the pleasure. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of the way Jack says it, the way it seems to fall from his lips like it’s something precious. When he says it a second time, mouth shaping the word against Daniel’s own lips, it’s too much, and Daniel let’s go.

But that’s okay. Daniel knows from long experience that Jack will say it again, later, as the morning sun comes through the drapes. The sleep in his voice will alter the syllables just a little, slur them just a bit. It’s one of Daniel’s favourite sounds.

**Author's Note:**

> All definitions are from the Cambridge Dictionary.


End file.
